


Unstopping Ascent, Directed Force

by PridakArbiter



Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:58:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6553732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PridakArbiter/pseuds/PridakArbiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecile Vasil was dead, rendered brain dead the moment before she would trigger. However, something unexplainable happens, something beyond mortal comprehension. A lost soul, an out of context problem, decides that it had waited in the darkness quite long enough. After hijacking a shard, from somebody else at their 'trigger' this soul slithers into Cecile's cooling body and rising once more among the living.<br/>The quasi self insert kills Cecile's progenitor, Heartbreaker, and ends up on the run from the Canadian authorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue:  
Terror, blind and utter terror permeated my thoughts. I died, drowning in my own blood. I remembered flashes of viscera and flesh, iron and circuits. A bright white light hit my eyes, blinding me.   
Then I felt a subtle little tug, I resisted for an instant, afraid but relented when it persisted gently. I was glad to be free from the horror of my last waking thoughts. They in turn were jumbled, cast away from me, because of their utter horror. A film descended over my thoughts, a voice murmured, and I flailed. After all, some memories I greatly coveted. Thoughts of hope and impossible dreams.   
Then in that instant something fumbled, surprised by my sudden motion, and I fell into darkness. Many sharp blades tore at my form. Then paper surrounded me, I grasped one, hoping to arrest my endless fall, and though I grasped one I continued to fall. Lastly, I fell into nothingness.  
I stayed in the nothingness for an eternity. Then their was light. Which was a little strange, since it had been dark for so long. Something filled with terror passed me by, it was leaving something, but I was undeterred. I had been languishing in darkness for so long that the light looked like a blessing. Even if it was as grisly as my death. All it wanted was a small little glimpse of light, viewed with proper eyes.  
In that very instant I saw something. Two great worms spiraling around each other, enormous shards torn from their bodies as they danced, or fought. Each was immense, greater than cities, greater than continents, greater than planets, and more vast than the sun. One such fragment from one of the great worms spiraled down towards me, drifting and falling. It reminded me of my own fall into the nothingness.   
I did not know whether it was intelligent, I could see that it would not hit me, it had been aimed for another. It had been aimed, it had been intended for another. The other was leagues away. I was suddenly filled with a jealous desire, I knew that I could usurp this fragment and bind it to myself.  
I did just that. I propelled myself forward, reaching out with intangible fingers and snagged the colossal fragment of the worms. I pulled it towards myself, even as I followed the slipstream of the presence that passed me before. I dragged it into the light.  
For a second their was darkness, then I felt the beat of a heart, the rush of blood through veins, it was startling after being without for such a long time. I also felt an ache, only in the flesh, on various parts of this body. A body which was now mine. I opened one eye, the other was shut and ached to open. Ah, that ache was clearly pain, how I missed you. I breathed for a second, reveling in the near forgotten sensation, and tasted the air. It was heavy with various scents. None that I recognized.  
I tasted copper, or perhaps the iron of blood, it was also pleasant. I also saw nothing for a second, my eyes requiring just scant seconds to adjust. A glaring fluorescent light stared down at me. I flinched as suddenly an ugly face filled my vision. A blow struck my swollen eye causing me to tumble backwards ungracefully. With a surge of rage I struck out. At the same time, none of my limbs moved.  
A forearm and hand, streaked with black and white stripes, separated from my own arm and carved a furrow effortlessly through the man. He collapsed backwards with a look of utmost shock painted on his ugly face. Within a split second the black and white striped arm disappeared. It left me standing in front of dying man in a darkened room, one lone, and flickering fluorescent light the only luminescence.  
The room itself was a little extravagant and daresay lavish, despite the terrible light. A mahogany queen bed and genuine marble floor proving so. It was such a sharp contrast to the atrocious lighting that I actually had trouble organizing my thoughts.  
I was brought out of my thoughts by the sound of slow clapping, a potbellied, obese, whale of man, with gangly hair, ill fitting, but expensive clothes, and a horrendously misshapen face smiled at me. It was a cruel smile, that attempted to look kind. However, its owner seemed to only be making a token effort, not caring for anybody.  
“A Striker!” He crowed, on these words he sounded quite covetous, “How fortunate!”  
Eh? A what? I did not speak these words, for I found this predicament very strange. I had apparently appeared in somebody’s house, evidently a rich man, killed another in a spectacular but bloody fashion, and he wanted to congratulate me. Who was he?  
In a split second my mind whirled though a myriad of possibilities, before settling on one thing. The psycho appeared to be familiar with me, which was highly unlikely, I did not know many obscenely wealthy people. He turned and gestured for me to follow him, with that still disturbing smile.  
“Come along now, my Cécile, someone will get you cleaned up now,” He said and I followed with an awkward stumble. I felt a twisting in my head, urging me to obey, and I did, unsure if I could actually disobey.  
It was like a persistent urging, insidious, slowly creeping around my mind, tweaking little thoughts of insurrection. However, this body was not mine, and I could remain aloof and become incapable of control.  
I withdrew, instead of piloting the body, I became akin to a puppeteer. The limbs moved in a shaky manner, choppy and with ill control. My grip was extremely tenuous but I persevered. Then disgusting ugly potbellied fellow led me into an opulent washroom. An enormous gold tub sat alongside an ivory toilet and marble sink. Cashmere wool towels hung from silver hooks.  
The ugly fellow spoke again, I noticed that he spoke with a clearly French, possibly French Canadian accent. He informed me to make myself presentable and the mental twisting occurred again. I allowed my body, which was not always mine, follow the nudging as the ugly person left closing a n oak door behind him as he did.  
This body was female and in a somewhat strange condition. Bruises and abrasions covered the exposed flesh. The clothing was partly indecent, rather more so than I had ever seen before. Dried blood covered the face and arms of the body, some of it not from the body but from the murdered person. Without the detachment gained from maintaining only a tenuous grasp I would probably be filled with terror.   
The thoughts and memories of this body were inaccessible to me, something I needed to remedy. With shaky and aching hands I dug into the pocket on the really short shorts. I extracted a smartphone of unfamiliar make.  
I glanced around for a clock, the ugly man would probably be displeased if I tarried so I needed to be fast. Once I found this vessels name I could begin to formulate an escape plan. I started the water in the tub, I would need the sound of water to cover my time spent on the smart phone.  
I paused however, when I pressed the power button. I did not know the passcode. I mentally flailed for a second before remembering something from a story. I mindlessly pressed numbers. I tried different combinations, the ones that felt the most natural for my muscles to move.  
The second one worked and I committed the number to memory, repeating it several times out loud to myself. My voice sounded hoarse and broken, as if I had been screaming for a long time. I searched around for quite a few seconds, since I was very unfamiliar with the phone design before I found settings and from there extrapolated my name, Cécile Vasil.  
Cécile Vasil sounded foreign. At least it was foreign to my memories. The first name was obviously kind of french sounding. Vasil did not sound like French but I suppose it might be French. The closest name I could remember that possessed Vasil was as a first name. Some Russian sniper named Vasily Zaytsev. Since, the disgusting ugly guy had an obviously French accent that meant he most likely French.  
I paused in thought as I stopped the water, perhaps he was Russian after all and was part of the KGB? Hmm, that might work as a theory. I remembered the arm, striped in black and white that materialized from my own arm.   
Perhaps they were trying to develop abilities? The power I exhibited was clearly not normal. I reclined in the tub as I thought, washing away dried blood. The unpleasant ugly fellow was not surprised. He had been expecting something of that nature to happen.  
With an effort of will a black and white arm seeped out of the flesh of my arm. I turned the additional limb around until the hand was palm up, it was effortless, almost easier than moving my own aching limbs. I reached out with the arm, reaching towards a bottle of expensive glass bottled shampoo with the arm. It stretched outwards, eventually a whole body stepped out from mine.   
Clinically detached I noticed that it was nude and adorned with matching white and black stripes that reminded me heavily of a tiger, albeit one that was albino or something. I could see from both its eyes and this vessels. However, my mind was more closely entwined with the inhumanely beautiful creature that had stepped forth from my body.  
It was an utterly strange sensation to posses two bodies. I turned from my advance towards the shampoo bottle and looked upon my vessel. It was slim and pretty, with overly pale, almost sickly white skin, deep blue eyes. Or rather eye, since one was swollen shut and a myriad of heavy bruises kept the black eye company. I would say that the body was pretty but had no standard to hold it too besides the black and white creature.  
The other body snatched up the shampoo, or actually it did not. The hand carved through the bottle as if it was tissue paper but even less. Even tissue paper showed more resistance than the bottle made. It was utterly annihilated.  
One word resonated in my head as I stared at the creature, Siberian.


	2. Siberian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecile/Self Insert meets the Heartbroken

Chapter 1: The Siberian

I cleaned my body quickly barely paying any attention to it. Instead most of my focus was devoted to the Siberian. It was both familiar and unfamiliar. I distinctly knew that I had never seen it in my previous life. AT the same time the concept of a black and white striped creature of annihilation was not alien.  
It moved with barely any input from me, responding to even the most whimsical thoughts. Which was why the wall was featuring a new drawing, artfully carved a centimeter into its surface. The artwork itself was terribly morbid, featuring a whirling kaleidoscope of flesh gears and circuits. It was utterly unfamiliar, I possessed no knowledge of being capable of drawing in such a manner.   
The Siberian itself, or rather herself, or possibly myself, was inhumanely beautiful. A fully toned and curvy body, the stripes did not extend past the base of the neck, leaving both face and hair in solid colors. The face being stark white and the hair pitch black, curled slightly. The sclera of the eyes was black, contrasting sharply with the pale hue of the face and the both iris and pupil were the same pale color as the rest. Their were no shades of grey on the Siberian, everything was either black or white. The front of the Siberian, which would be the underbelly in a tiger, was mostly white and her back was the black hue of her hair.  
My other body, the Siberian’s, senses were far beyond my flesh bodies. The eyesight was beyond sharp, I could see motes of dust floating in the shadowed room. I could smell the musk and blood scent of this room, the traces of bathroom products. Shaving cream, shampoo, toothpaste, and numerous other unfamiliar scents.   
The hearing was superb, when I focused through the Siberian’s ears I could hear acutely the conversations carried on throughout the ugly man’s demesne. I heard the whispers of many people, talking of various things.  
I caught dialogue concerning something called the Guild, Dragon, Cherie, and Niko, (which was particularly disturbing because of the tone, gasps, and words). I rose from the tub as my focused hearing caught the relatively stealthy approach of a person. The heavier gait seemed to indicate a human male, relatively over weight but far taller than the ugly potbellied guy.  
The Siberian flowed towards me from the opposite side of the tub. The water did not even ripple as I moved the Siberian’s body. Seamlessly she flowed into my flesh, disappearing in a heartbeat. I snatched a towel from the marble shelf on the wall. The door eased open and a pretty (yes pretty) young man stepped in. He was dressed in an expensive suit, that actually fit and appeared to be at least semi tailored for his body. His face was aristocratic looking with high cheek bones, small nose, blue eyes, and lightly curling brown hair.  
He gestured impatiently and held out an opulent red dress, “Father is waiting, Cécile, hurry and dress.”  
I awkwardly stepped over the side of the tub and shakily plucked the dress from his outstretched hand. My motions were still uncoordinated, I was reluctant to fully merge and integrate myself into this body if it meant I would be manipulated so easily by the potbellied man. Once I grabbed the dress I was reduced to waiting for him to leave, instead of doing so he looked me over, lingering on my bruised face.  
“Ah, Nicholas sure did a number on you, didn’t he? Here let me fix that,” He reached out a hand and I almost flinched away, the fingers of the Siberian rising slightly out of my own arm before withdrawing as the young man placed a hand on my bodies face.  
He grimaced for a second and my pain faded slightly, I turned and glanced at the full length mirror hanging from the wall, the bruise had faded slightly but was still prominent. He sighed before speaking again, “Yeah I know its not perfect but healing takes a lot out of me.”  
I nodded numbly in acknowledgement, he opened his mouth to say something more but evidently thought better of it, turned and left the room, easing the door shut as he left. I jerkily dried myself and then manipulated my limbs into the dress. When I finally donned the dress I found some undergarments pinned to the inside with a safety pin. With great effort and a tinge of annoyance I removed the dress and clothed myself with the undergarments before dressing myself again.  
I spared a second of thought to how I was supposed to carry around the smartphone in a dress before I decided to hide it between my breasts. I did so, the movement causing my face to heat up with a blush. Thankfully the neck of the dress went high enough that hopefully none would notice it.  
After I finished that awkward dressing moment I frisked my bodies previous clothes for anything important, unsurprisingly my efforts were fruitless. Once I finished that I spared a moment of thought to whether I should step outside and try to find somebody to bring me to this vessel’s possibly biological sire.  
Looking into the mirror I was a little doubtful that the ugly potbellied oaf was the parent of anything like my body. She was perfect and pretty and he was terribly horrendous. I tossed that idle thought aside after a brief consideration with the realization that ultimately did not matter, the situation would be the same whether I was biologically related or not.  
With a knock on the door, the healer opened the door and stuck his face into the doorway.  
“Need help buttoning the back?”  
I turned and blinked blankly, I did not recall having any trouble with dressing. Thinking back I realized that I should have had trouble with buttoning, especially considering how uncoordinated I was.  
He stalked in, looked me over before speaking again, “Huh? Never mind, it seems you got it.”  
He paused and just regarded me for a second, perhaps waiting for a reply? I opened my mouth and attempted to speak, “Guh.”  
Well, that was mortifying, it seems my muscle coordination roubles extend to the more delicate manipulation of the facial muscle. Scrunching up my face with focus I tried again, “Gah, thk uuu.”  
His brow furrowed before lifting up his hand again and rested it against my face, after a second he frowned and left the room, gesturing for me to follow. I did, stumbling along behind, barefoot and devoting the majority of my attention to ensuring that I would not stumble. After a few shambling steps and a near stumble over a wooden trowel, which was strange in itself, my presumed sibling snatched my arm and helped me walk. However, he was careful not to let me touch any bare skin, and in fact his hand were now covered by subtly embroidered silk gloves.  
We went down some steps, through numerous hallways, through a gold floored ballroom, and up two stairs, until we reached an even more opulent sitting room. It was large, around five meters long and four meters wide. Numerous genuine leather couches and armchairs were arranged around a solid gold cushioned throne in front of an exquisite fireplace. Three logs burned merrily, snapping and cracking to the heat.  
The room itself was filled completely with young men and women, but upon the throne sat the potbellied man, like a wannabe king presiding over his court. The potbellied man straightened from where he was slouched in his throne and gestured grandly, “Welcome, my daughter, to the ranks of my knights, the Heartbroken!”


	3. B for Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Heartbroken ends up dead

I twitched. Inside my mind I was rather incredulous. Heartbroken? What kind of moron would name his followers the Heartbroken? Also, knights? What was this, England or something? I knew for a fact that there are no knights in America. Except of course the Knights of Columbus.  
Or at least this would matter if I knew where I was. Technically, far all I know I very may well be in England. My face twitched as I unconsciously attempted to adopt the mannerisms that I had possessed before I gained this body.  
However, do to my abysmal lack of control over my vessel I am positive that my face just spasmed uncontrollably. My escort frowned and stepped forward, half raising his hand, evidently seeking permission from ‘Father’ to speak.  
He was gestured forward and made to speak, almost whisper, in father’s ear. Despite his precautions I heard him clearly, “Father, she is now a bit mentally… challenged.”  
Father frowned, a gesture that was rather quite grotesque and very disturbing to see. He then replied, in a normal voice, “Elaborate.”  
“She appears to have suffered extreme neurological damage, like as if she received a blender to her brain. Frankly, it’s rather a minor miracle that she even functions. She should be a brain dead lump of flesh.”  
“This is,” Father paused after those words for a second, almost searching for the right word, before continuing, “Most disappointing.”  
He turns slightly in his throne, even as my escort/brother gulped soundlessly and retreated. I noticed with some worry that he was pale and almost trembling. I regarded him for a second out of the corner of my eye before returning my attention to father, who was staring quite intently at a familiar looking man in the corner of the room.  
He had an enormous lesion of scar tissue carved straight up his torso, I could see the damage from the way his skin tight shirt clung to his body, and extensive scarring over his face.  
“Nicholas,” father crooned in a very disturbing fashion, it did not suit him all, “You damaged your sister… I warned you not to go over board…”  
Father trailed off at the end, waiting for the man to defend himself. I felt a slight surge in adrenaline, heavily muted, as I stared at him. I recognized him, he was the person who I bisected upon my arrival. He was the person that was engaged in extensive bodily harm to my vessel. A tinge of black appeared on my fingertips as the Siberian’s fingertips protruded slightly, ready for combat.  
Nicholas grimaced, he once had been attractive, I suppose, before I scarred him. He was dressed differently than the rest of the Heartbroken. Instead of the expensive opulent suits he was dressed in what looked like exercise clothes. It was not quite speedo but it was close. I wondered briefly why he wasn't dead but realized after another moment that my escort had faded the bruise around my face. It might have been possible that he would heal, this Nicholas.  
I resisted the urge to growl, which was a strange urge in itself, as Nicholas opened his mouth and unmarred lips to speak.  
“I didn’t,” Nicholas snarled rabidly, eyes suddenly lighting up with anger, “If I went overboard she’d be a lot worse off!”  
Then he turned and leered at me. I blinked at him, silently daring him to approach. Father however was very displeased. For an instant I felt a pressure, like an insurmountable obstacle, a sense of malice that permeated everything. All in the room quailed, recoiling visibly.  
Nicholas dropped like a stone, I was the only one that seemed relatively unaffected. I felt it as a part of the vessel’s brain twisted, actually contorting inside my skull, but I was unaffected. My muscles were relaxed and my grip on the vessel remained loose.  
“I am Heartbreaker!” Father roared in fury, “I will not have an attitude like that in my hallowed halls!”  
Heartbreaker descended like a demon from his throne, every piece of his malformed face combining to make him seem more malevolent. Something sinister glittered in his eyes, something not entirely human, it was a perverse glee, a delight in utter domination.  
Father who was also Heartbreaker strode towards the corner of the room where Nicholas quivered on the floor a gibbering wreck. He reached down and grabbed the back of Nicholas’ head and just stared for a moment.  
“Perhaps, I’ve been a little too lenient?” Heartbreaker questioned softly. Suddenly my dismissal of Heartbreaker seemed heavily misplaced. Yes, he looked frail and showed ineptitude initially, merely seeming to badly play the part of an evil man pretending to be pleasant but he was something more.  
Heartbreaker slammed Nicholas’ head into the ground before straighten enough to fetch a stiletto knife from his jacket.  
“Please,” Heartbreaker gestured to all others dismissively, “Provide us with a little privacy.”  
The room emptied in a heartbeat. My escort dragged me along. I did not resist, absently and detached I wondered what was going to happen to Nicholas. In the room directly outside, none of the Heartbroken spoke. Each aligned themselves similarly to how they were arranged inside the room. I took a moment to study each.  
Every one of the young adults had similar facial features, high cheekbones, bright blue eyes and curling hair. The hair color itself varied from person to person. Most of the girls, about four, were blond, two were brunettes, and one was a redhead. The males were primarily brown haired, about five, and the minority, about three had other colors, both one blond and two black.  
I wondered whether Heartbreaker was actually the father of these beautiful children but then decided that perhaps they were just a very close family? Maybe Heartbreaker was called father in a different way then according to the biological? Possibly there were many different groups of Heartbroken scattered throughout the area, each answering to a Heartbreaker?  
It was certainly possible that they were part of some sort of superhuman military force. Of course none of them appeared particularly disciplined to my eyes. About half slouched slightly and the others locked their knees. I wasn’t completely positive but I held a strong belief that soldiers, and members of any military, would not fall into such bad posture. Even without the presence of a superior officer.  
A moment later Heartbreaker opened the door and exited the room. His suit was unmarred with blood and was not even ruffled by whatever he had done to Nicholas. He regarded the Heartbroken for a moment silently and they snapped into rough lines. Eight moved to one side and seven to the other.  
After a moment of just standing there being startled I realized that I was the only one that was not aligned evenly. I quickly and awkwardly shuffled over to the side with seven. Heartbreaker regarded me for a second before allowing a slight nod to break his composure.  
Suddenly he clapped, a macabre expression of mirth appearing on his face, “Now, Cécile, let’s see your powers.”  
I felt a faint stirring of caution in the back of my mind. Not the vessels but my actually presence but I did not permit it to fester.  
“To the demonstration,” Heartbreaker gestured and most of the group turned and followed after Heartbreaker. As he passed me he gestured for me to follow him. However, as I turned away I noticed two of the Heartbroken detach and enter the original meeting room. Both had expressions of loss on their faces.  
I pushed this thought down, secluding it in my mind. I knew immediately that I would not wish to reveal everything to this Heartbreaker. I had a suspicion that each member had powers and that each member was different. My escort had healing powers, Heartbreaker himself seemed to posses an emotional tweaking power. Following this line of thought I considered what I had already revealed.  
First off, I had already revealed the ability to cut using something that was not my normal hand. I was unaware if Nicholas revealed the arm manifested by my power but I deemed it wise to imply that my power only would work on things in close proximity to me. It would probably be best to both conceal the Siberian’s body, arms and other bodily attributes. I glanced down at my fingers, letting just the barest hints of the Siberians finger to protrude, enough to turn the edges of my fingers black.  
That would have to do. Hopefully they would not suspect even an iota of what I could really do. One thing that was of critical importance was possessing a hidden ace up my sleeve. Hopefully, they remained unaware that I was partly immune to Heartbreaker’s emotion manipulation.  
We stopped a few halls later in front of an ornate think wooden door. With a dramatic flourish one of the Heartbroken opened the door, it glided open noiselessly along oiled hinges. Almost like one unit the Heartbroken, Heartbreaker, and I strode into an opulent, dimly lit ballroom. It looked like something one would find in the height of the Victorian Age. Marble floor, gilded golden pillars, a small alcove off to the side for an orchestra, with genuine silk curtains, and enormous unlit crystal chandeliers.  
Heartbreaker turned to me and spoke, the Heartbroken arrayed behind him like the wings of a great bird of prey. His voice was soothing, almost rich and cultured sounding, but the words were like a stab in the back with an ice cold blade of naked steel.  
I followed his eyesight to a man with greying hair, who looked quite brutalized and completely miserable, despite the horror in his eyes he did not even twitch.  
The words echoed over and over again throughout the room, and they echoed in my thoughts, Heartbreaker’s words were, “Kill that man.”  
Would I? Should I? It was never so clear that I rested on the crossroads of a moral decision. I have never killed before, I could kill the man and bide the time until escaping. This plan had the greatest possibility of success. Or, I could take the morally right path and attempt escape right at this very moment, I did not know where I was, I did not know who these people were, I did not know their powers. This second, morally right, plan had almost astronomically low chance of success.  
With a mental sigh, I made my choice.


	4. C for Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heartbreaker dies. Violently.

If I was going to do this I would have to be fast. If death wasn't an option that I would have to severely main everybody. Given the fact that the Heartbroken had someone with a healing power, I would have to be resolute and not hesitate.   
Heartbreaker turned towards the kneeling man, ridiculing him with a few choice words. I ignored the exchange as I planned my attack. It had to be flawless. First of all, I would have to save the man, if I left him I had no doubt that one of the Heartbroken would eliminate him in anger. That would technically be nearly the same as if I had killed him.  
Secondly, I had to cut the head from the snake. Heartbreaker was obviously the head and without him it seemed likely that the Heartbroken would degenerate into petty squabbling. However, they might band together for revenge against me.  
That brought me to the last choice, which would be kind of tricky to implement. I had to kill Heartbreaker without any of my ‘siblings’ realizing that I was the one that did so. At a whirlwind pace my nebulous mind shifted through plans, many forming and being disregarded within milliseconds.  
Finally I settled on a plan that I thought had some surety of success. Heartbreaker turned away from the kneeling man with a sickly happy smile on his face. Now that smile was not the smile of a sick person, a person that detested what they had to do. Instead it was the kind of sick smile that made your insides churn just by seeing it.  
None of this disgust registered on my face, it was certain I just looked stone cold. I reached out to my connection shared with the Siberian. I thrummed it for a second experimentally before concentrating on something new. Ordinarily I would be cautious in using something so new in combat but this time I was sure that this would work.  
I surpassed an idle thought that questioned when had I been in combat and focused on a spot just behind the kneeling man. For a second I saw something else, something vast, something that should have been beyond my comprehension. With a rush and a pop of displaced air the Siberian materialized in full monochrome glory.   
Instantly I familiarized seeing through my Siberian eyes, casting my superhuman vision around the ballroom. I looked upon Heartbreaker, marking him for death, I looked upon the others, noting the micro expressions starting to form as they spotted me in the shadows behind the kneeling man. The man himself remained kneeling, unable to stand through the utter domination of Heartbreaker’s insidious power.  
He did not posses enough terror to stand but possessed just enough to be terrified of moving a muscle. A delicate balance to be sure and I wondered how Heartbreaker did it. It must have taken an eternity of practice to hone such an ability.  
For a split millisecond I regarded, scrutinizing, my normal human body. She was thin and waif like, about middle teenage years and was bleeding…from my nose. I raised an eyebrow with my Siberian body even as my other body raised a hand to my nose. My/her hand came away crimson with blood. I felt stinging at the edges of my eyelids. I touched them with the other hand bringing away bright red blood as well. Now that was worrisome.  
I flinched as something impacted the Siberian. Or rather I flinched as the Siberian. A bullet had struck me right in the forehead, it did nothing, annihilated by the Siberian’s power. I looked upon my enemies.  
Heartbreaker, front and center, muttered a few choice words under his breath as he regarded the nude form of the Siberian, before speaking in a louder voice, “And who are you?”  
I nearly spoke with the Siberian body before remembering, ‘the Siberian does not speak’. I darted forward, soundlessly, moving without friction through the air. My hand, Siberian’s hand, carved through Heartbreaker’s chest. His misshapen face stared blankly at me, his brow twisted in concentration for a second before horror crept over his features.  
I pulled my arm free of his body, idly I tracked the blood spurting from the gaping wound. I clutched Heartbreaker’s heart in my hand, I watched it jump once, then twice, before ceasing as Heartbreaker began to topple to the ground. Suddenly, I was struck by curiosity. My hand shot out again and snagged Heartbreaker’s spine. Then in an imitation of something half forgotten I tore his spine out in a shower of gore.  
Then I dropped his body, permitting it to collapse on the ground. I cast my gaze around finding somebody, one of the female Heartbroken, with a missing hand right next to my Siberian body. She looked at me with terror before darting away towards the door. Hmm, I wonder where she came from?   
I began my advance, just then registering the flashes of gunfire from the majority of Heartbroken. I looked at each, just stating in place as the bullets slammed into me. One, a blonde haired girl’s face was twisted into a rictus of face. It was the only blemish to an exquisite doll like beauty. Target acquired I went towards her. I would say that I walked but that would be a lie. However, I also did not run, I merely moved.  
At the last second, as the girl’s eyes widened and she choked on an obscenity, I lessened my strike. Instead of bisecting her with a swung arm I aimed towards her arm. With supernatural clarity and no small measure of detachment I watched the arm spiral off her body, the flesh annihilated where my fingers had passed.  
Tarrying to watch the spectacle for merely a second I blurred into unstoppable motion again, removing her leg at the ankle. As she collapsed with a pain filled scream I stepped towards another, distances meant nothing and I was beside him before a heartbeat passed. I took two limbs from him as well.   
I repeated the process with another before the last panicked, finally realizing that their powers seemed to have no effect. I stiffened, however, as somebody grabbed my hand. I wrenched my wrist to throw them away and likely annihilate their hand before I realized that it was my escort and he was attempting to lead my human vessel towards the door.  
His face was flushed with panic and he was screaming something unintelligible, but I knew that it was quite rude. I’m pretty sure it was french. For a millisecond I almost batted him away before remembering that realizing that he was leading me away and that I was trying to disassociate any connection between the Siberian and me.  
Even as I tore another Heartbroken to pieces, being careful to make sure he might survive I allowed my escort to lead me out of the room. He pulled my body along behind him, stopping to help me when I stumbled. I forgave him for any wrongdoings he had committed because of this act of kindness.   
I realized with slight confusion that we were already out of the room and came to the conclusion that I hadn’t nearly been paying this body enough attention if my escort was able to drag me such a distance from the ballroom.  
“Are you back with me? You keep on blacking out?” My escort asked concerned and a little to calm. I mean he just saw his siblings and father dismembered in front of him and all he really seemed to show was complete apathy.   
I continued to direct my Siberian body in the continued hunt of the other Heartbroken. I noted that the house was going to come down around us soon if I continued to plow through walls with reckless abandon.  
My escort paused for a second, glancing around nervously before beginning to laugh while still leading me. It started out as an ordinary laugh but quickly transitioned into something hysterical. I rubbed my cheek, receiving a strange sensation flowing from my eye, was I crying? No, these were tears of blood, I rubbed my blood stained hand under my nose and gathered more blood.  
The sight of me rubbing at my face with blood stained hands prompted him into action, he reached out with a hand and grabbed my wrist again. The blood stopped and I felt some type of twisting in my human vessel’s brain. His face contorted in pain for a second before he released my wrist. He regarded me with unreadable eyes before pulling me into a hug.  
“At least I have you,” He muttered, “Even if you are damaged.”  
What? I hope this is platonic love. If not I’m going to kill him, previous kindness or not. It turned out I didn't have to do anything though because a gunshot ran out. Both the human ears and the Siberian’s heard it the gunshot but only the human body saw the effect. My escort’s head disappeared. Popped like a grape.  
A burly bulky giant of man, cradling a short semi automatic firearm emerged from a nearby stairwell before regarding me with crazed eyes.   
“Didn’t you hear girl? The Boss is dead! We can do whatever we want!”  
Something must have shown on my face or perhaps he was just that mentally unhinged because his gleeful expression morphed into an angry scowl.  
“Why do you look at me like that, girl? Wait, you’re one of his precious offspring aren't you? Well, looks like I’ll take my revenge a tad early!”  
He stepped into the light of the hallway letting me see him. His body was riddled with old scars and his face was heavily grizzled with both age and facial hair. His buzzcut hair was greying but his body was corded with muscles that looked iron hard. I watched in shock as his body began to distort, flesh flowing out of nowhere, further buffing up his gargantuan body.  
My mind went blank. What was I supposed to do?


	5. G for Guts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cecile loses her guts, entrails, et cetera.

I stepped back and reached out mentally towards the Siberian. I slipped into my other body. Taking it off auto pilot. I had apparently been rabidly hunting the Heartbroken. Most were dismembered, the flashes of imagery made my head spin.  
The viscera, gore, entrails and limbs, making nausea swim in the human body, even through the detachment gained from merely pupating the vessel. Than for another instant my vision filled with something else, a swirling symphony of whirling circuits and twisted flesh. Even as this replaced my vision another spectacle seized my attention.  
Two vast worms, spiraling in infinity. Twisting and twirling about each other, tearing glowing shards free in an eldritch dance. Then the Siberian returned to its place, within my human vessel.  
The enormous approaching brute stumbled even as I backtracked hastily. However, he swiftly drew himself back to his feet and leveled me with a glare, that despite the crazed look, could have curdled milk.  
“Girl! What did you do?” He snarled, the question lingering like the smell of a dead fish.  
“Guh gah,” I replied, nearly choking on mu own tongue, it still refused to act on my behalf. Evidently the tongue did not favor usurpers.  
“What?” The still steadily enlarging cape hissed, sounding vaguely serpentine, “Speak sense girl! Or I’ll boil your eyes within your skull and flay the flesh from your bones!”  
Any remaining doubt about whether this person was possibly innocent of wrongdoing flew out the window at his threat. No ordinary person threatened in such a way unless their humor was especially dark and the brute’s threat was delivered with utter surety. He had done this before, killing someone that is.  
With nary a sound the Siberian shimmered into existence right to the left of the man. She was still perfectly pristine and unmarred by any of the attempts the Heartbroken had made against her. Without any effort I moved my conscious control over to the piloting of the Siberian form.  
I stepped forward, gliding noiselessly across the wood floor of this part of the mansion, I interspersed my Siberian body between my human vessel, which I directed to begin backing away. A quick glance revealed nothing overly wrong with my body so I turned the majority of my attention to the growing man. He appeared startled by my rapid appearance and by my defense of the girl, ah I mean my human body.  
“Woman, I have no quarrel with you,” He rumbled, the sound distorted, some of the madness appeared to have fled from his eyes, “I know that it was you who killed the boss and for that I’m grateful.”  
“The girl is not to be harmed,” I spoke as the Siberian. The words echoed in a disturbing manner, each letter seeming to be artfully chosen and perfectly pronounced. However, despite this perfection their was something wrong with the words, the sound was alien, seemingly almost other.  
The man hesitated, his bloated chest heaving as he thought furiously for a second, finally after a moment of introspection he grated out.  
“No, she’s mine! You don’t know what her cursed lump of a father did to me. Twisting my very thoughts in my own head! I will have my revenge!”  
He gazed over the shoulder of the Siberian and met the eyes of my human body, for a second I switched over to look him in the eyes. There was a particular and startling insanity, bloodlust, and lust saturating his sight.  
My brow furrowed and I moved. I leapt forward about a meter and snapped out with an arm. Instead of the disorganized if seemingly elegant animalistic attack against the Heartbroken I attempted to be precise.  
I aimed for his chest, which was the biggest and most grotesque target. Amazingly the brute erupted into motion, almost blurring as he weaved around my arm. Nevertheless I grazed him, removing about an inch of flesh with the edge of my arm.   
He recoiled with a hiss of pain and regarded me more carefully. I noticed his increasingly cat like eyes darting over my form, gauging my reach.  
“She,” I intoned in the same unnatural voice as my previous ultimatum, “Is under the aegis of my protection. She is mine.”  
The brute paused before shrugging and speaking, this time his speech was noticeably garbled, but only slightly and still intelligible, “I guess I’ll kill you too.”  
I laughed, the sound clear and bell like. Almost my amusement crossed over towards my human vessel, causing me to choke back a laugh that threatened to usher from her lips.  
“I am an Unstoppable Force, an Immovable Object!” I boasted. That was when I realized something, the Siberian was not supposed to speak, was she? I grimaced mentally as I realized my mistake. This needed to end now.  
Evidently, the brute noticed something, perhaps a change in my face, a tensing of muscle, but he jumped to the side, tearing straight through plaster and drywall to avoid my outstretched fingers.  
I twisted slightly unbothered by such a novel thing as momentum and ran my arm straight through his own outstretched arm. His arm, which had been brandished, on instinct in a warding gesture, detached and flew through the air to impact the wall with a sickening thud and a crimson spurt of blood.  
He screamed. It was a terrifying scream, all primal pain and horrendous pain. For a second it looked like the brute would attack in a frenzy despite the pain. This action would be preferred since the Siberian seemed to be inviolable. Or at least the impression’s I received heavily implied so.  
Reason returned to the maimed brute before he made such a fatal error and even as he mastered himself an unspeakably dark expression slithered across his increasingly deformed face as he realized something.  
I hesitated, had he found a gap in my, the Siberian’s power? A way to harm me? Perhaps, I wasn’t as invincible as I thought? All these thoughts swirled in my mind before with an almost detached gaze I watched the brute explode into motion yet again.  
He spiraled through the air, artfully and superhumanly dodging my outstretched limbs. In the span of a single heartbeat he tore through the laws, not conforming to the obstacle that they presented.  
To late I realized his aim, his destination. Nearly five hundred pounds of muscle, bone, and claws barreled towards my human vessel. The at first ordinary looking man had changed drastically as the fight continued, continuing to grow larger and more feline. Now he was nearly bursting out of his clothes, was covered in coarse grey fur, and his reach had increased by about a third of a meter.  
It was with a growing sense of alarm I realized that somehow during the course of the fight he had moved around the Siberian and was now both between my Siberian and human vessel, and he was currently heading straight towards me.  
With a wordless snarl I hurtled after him, leaving great gashes in the hallway as I stepped twice before punching towards his chest even as he reached a long taloned hand straight towards my vessel.  
Frantically I tried to dodge the incoming blow. However, despite my best and most frantic efforts, this body was merely human and one long yellowish claw grazed my human vessels abdomen as I moved.  
For an instant I felt elation as I carved a hole through the Brute’s body and he garbled out a death screech. Then I felt the pain. A sharp stabbing pain straight over my stomach. I brought a hand down to my stomach, it was unmarred, or at least the Siberian form was unharmed.  
I returned my primary attention to my human form even as I turned as the Siberian to regard myself. My hand on the human vessel traveled down, taking in the frayed edges of the torn dress before coming in contact with the stabbing pain. I locked eyes with my other vessel before my eyes drifted down to a hand that came away red from a gaping wound.  
However, that wasn't even the worst part… my entrails were currently decorating the ground.


	6. S for Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surgery done quite inexpertly.

Two worms twisted and twined about, participating in an eldritch dance that was only new first at the dawn of time. They were mating, or perhaps engaged in a furious fight to the death. They were fascinating, there were not enough words in any earthly language to describe their sinuous dance.  
I sighed deeply and sat up slightly from my position watching two worms struggle in the dirt of the forest. One was an earthworm and the other was bright red and I think it was some type of terrestrial leech, which shouldn’t have been common in any place that spoke english. Just because I disliked the look of the leech/worm I stumbled away to lean against a different tree.   
A heavy winter cloak covered my shoulders but my bare feet looked a little blue and were probably in the beginning stages of frostbite. Or at least they looked blue and were pretty numb so I considered frostbite to be probable. I went about starting a fire.  
I started with going through my pockets, emptying the contents of the stolen coat into a small niche created by one of the trees, a towering pine’s roots. I found a few pieces of twine, chapstick, one of those flattened pennies with an engraving of Disneyland on it, a car key, and a cigarette lighter.  
I grinned, which made my face twitch weirdly, and picked up the cigarette lighter and the chapstick. After an additional second of thought I picked up the twine too. I slipped the Disneyland penny back into my left pocket. The fire starting things went into the right pocket. I slowly eased myself to my feet and with utmost care went about gathering sticks.   
A few large and low hanging chunks of dry lichen was added to my growing pile. When I dubbed it completed at much as possible I attempted to start the fire right at the roots of the pine. I knew intellectually that doing something like that ran the risk of forest fire but it was the most sheltered spot from the shrill cold wind that routinely whistled through the tree boughs.  
I grabbed a few sticks and rubbed the chapstick over them and assembled a quasi teepee made out of the sticks. Next I arranged the lichen and twine around and under the teepee.  
With numb fingers I twirled the little wheel on the lighter. The first time wasn't hard enough and I admit I felt the first stirrings of panic, even more so when I dropped the lighter into the dirt and had to fumble to recover it. The sharp fast motions sending sharp stabbing pains from my abdomen.  
My second try was a bit more successful, a small flame appeared for a moment on top of the lighter, it winked out a second later, after a particularly strong burst of wind. I hunkered down further in my oversized winter coat and cupped my hands before trying again.  
I nearly screamed as the flame surged to life, singing my numb fingers. It wasn't that I actually was able to feel the flame but the sight of naked flame licking at my flesh disturbed me greatly for some reason. For a second the thoughts of blood a circuitry that ever lingered at the back of my thoughts turned to images of great pyres, reaching ever heavenward.  
I shuddered and returned my attention to the lighter, moving it towards the sticks and lichen pieces. Thankfully it took only an instant for my gather fuel to ignite. I slowly fed the small fire sticks, trying to coax it larger. The wind however would return with a vengeance every few minutes and do its best to snuff it from existence.  
I spent a long moment huddled by the fire before I perked up. What I was seeing through the Siberian matched up with the landmarks close to my position. I relinquished my primary attention from the human body and flowed back towards my Siberian one.  
After being disemboweled earlier I had the Siberian quickly locate some bandages, or really I used the Siberian to render all of my enamored escort’s clothes into bandages. After that, I utilized the Siberian’s viewpoint to put my guts, which were actually only a few lengths of intestine, the small one not the larger one, back into my body.  
The intestines did not look damaged, no cuts or anything, and the claw that my gut was opened with was pretty sharp and grown with some type of power so I was quite uncertain of the potential level of infection. I also knew that septic shock was possible if the intestines were actually damaged. However, I had no real idea where a hospital was and a quick check with my cell phone revealed that I had no reception to make a call to emergency services. That was not even considering the fact that the people with powers may be living a masquerade and in that case the normals would have no idea about how to treat something like what occurred at the mansion.  
So on the subject of the Masquerade society I decided that I needed to leave, as soon as possible. I pupated the Siberian and performed impromptu surgery. Placing my guts back in my body, bandaging them with the probably improperly sanitized cloth and booking it out into the wilderness. I managed the presence of mind to grab a coat, which fortunately turned out to be a heavy winter coat, as I was leaving.  
However, after about three miles of carrying myself with the Siberian I realized that first of all I needed more medical supplies, second I had no idea where to go. Lastly, I needed better clothes. So I decided to send the Siberian back the way I came, to salvage some stuff from Heartbreaker’s mansion.  
Unfortunately, if there was some secret order or organization of people with powers I needed to be able to keep a low profile. Even if the Siberian was able to carry me effortlessly, and without any jostling of my injury, it was still awkward to handle a human body while sneaking.  
It was with some surprise that I noticed a saturation of law enforcement officers once I arrived back at the Mansion. They were for the most part keeping their distance and interrogating a few haggard and traumatized women and what looked like their children. I spared a moment for watching them carefully.  
Looking over the police officers I finally realized my location. The maple tree leaf on their shoulders was unmistakably Canadian. However, they didn’t quite look like your ordinary police, or even whatever Canada’s equivalent of a SWAT, Special Weapons Attack Team, was.  
Carefully I entered the mansion, making a beeline towards the bathrooms, which were a little difficult to find, so I really just walked straight through walls and such until I found what I was looking for, which were actually sterilized bandages, sanitized cleaning wipes, the type used for cleaning wounds, a few bottles of water, a compact electric heater, some varied antibiotics, with prescriptions attached, a few blankets, some string and thread, and a black trash bag.  
I departed the same way I had come in the police were still maintaining their distance some way down the long driveway, but I could see them with their squad cars and, huh, a Canadian Mountie just came over on a horse. Who even still rides horses?  
Pushing everything into the clean trash bag I had found I prepared to leave when the Siberian’s auditory sensors, which were much more advanced then my normal human host’s ears picked up a low droning sound. I stayed for a moment longer, attempting to pinpoint the sound. About half a minute after I detected the sound several of the Canadian Police tensed as they heard the same droning sound I had.  
A moment later I watched in shock as a mechanized suit descended from the heavens to rest on the driveway in front of the police and between them and the mansion. It was draconic, shaped like a dragon and was made completely of steel and various alloys. Thrusters burned under the wings and on each of the limbs, aiding in the accuracy of descent. Various weapons, barrels to rotary cannons, some type of nozzle for spraying (water?) or acid, and what looked line mini missiles lodged under the expansive wingspan of the metal beast.  
After a few seconds of shock one police officer confirmed something over the radio concerning a ‘dragon’. Immediately after learning whatever had been conveyed he appeared quite pleased and waddled up to the mechanized dragon and engaged it in conversation. No more than twenty seconds had passed before the dragon raised a mighty clawed forelimb and pointed into the forest in the direction of my Siberian body.  
I took off in a flash, dodging many tress and assorted shrubbery, I zigzagged numerous times eventually traveling a whole circuit around before I was able to return to my human body which was currently involved in the effort of constructing a fire. Most of my mental power was deported to be used in this important and critical endeavor.  
It was at this point that my Siberian body arrived back at the clearing and I went about cleaning my wound. Carefully I manipulated the sanitary wipes with the annihilating hands of the Siberian, wiping away the still steadily flowing blood and cleaned the wound. Next I made sure to withdraw almost completely from my human vessel and started to sew the gaping wound shut with the needle and thread.   
Even through the distance between minds, I felt the sharp little pains, which was greatly disorienting. Thankfully, I possessed the strength of will to endure past the increasingly excruciating pain and complete the surgery.  
Having completed the surgery I turned my attention to the rest of my body. The human vessels face was mostly uninjured but still covered in blood. I used the last of the sanitary wipes to clean away the somewhat dried blood and then returned to my human vessel, drawing it closer to the fire before reaching out with cold hand to knead my nearly frozen toes. It would be greatly disappointing if I successfully treated the gut wound but ended up hospitalized for frostbite.


	7. R for Robbery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all stealing is robbery.

I stared at the flickering light of a gas station. The moon was high in the sky and it shown with the light of a full moon. Through the partially clouded windows of the gas station I spotted a cashier, or worker, cleaning the floor.   
The station itself looked slightly run down, weathered and eroded by time. The gas station’s sign was even destroyed, something being smashed straight through it. However, despite this, it apparently had just enough business to stay in business.  
The Siberian flowed out of my body, I spent an instant to look at myself as I left. I looked absolutely horrible for an eighteen year old. The white of one eye was red, I hypothesized internal bleeding of some sort, and it hurt something awful. That side of face was also covered in a massive bruise and intense dark circles lingered under both of my vessel’s ocular organs. My nose was thankfully still healed from my onetime escorts healing, but a headache was steadily increasing.   
Under the daylight I had spared a look for the wound I had sutured about a day ago. It did not look good at all. It was with no small amount of worry I realized that I had attempted to sterilize my wound but forgotten to sterilize the needle and thread used to sew the wound shut.  
It had begun to look rather bad this evening and sharp stabbing pain was still radiating from my abdomen. This pain as in addition to the increasingly inflamed appearance of the injury.   
My periodic and near religious use of fires had amazingly prevented frost bite on my exposed limbs. I was lucky that I had been so successful in starting numerous blazes that warmed me. However, the lighter fuel was almost gone. Within a day that to would be gone.  
That being said I was understandingly elated when I discovered a road, roughly paved as it was and began following it. I had discovered by following the curse of the sun that the way I was traveling was south, which was exactly the way I wanted to go. Obviously America was both warmer and more American then Canada.  
I racked my mind on what I was supposed to do once I got into the United States but drew a blank. Not much would change. I still had no idea on whether a masquerade was being carried out by abnormal and peculiar forces. If so I wouldn't be able to use powers at all in public sight. There was also the possibility that the ordinary individuals would not even be capable of seeing anything unusual.  
However, I also did not disregard the chance that the peculiar and abnormal were normal here. Perhaps if I whipped out my awesome Siberian nobody would bat an eye. Or they could end up worshiping me as exalted! Or of course they could be required by an asinine religion to sacrifice my flesh to an evil god, named Nolij, that abhorred people with powers and demanded monthly sacrifices.  
I shook my head at my spiraling thoughts and directed the Siberian down the slope. Halfway down I wheeled the Siberian about and bounded back up the slope, Briefly I had considered sending the Siberian into the gas station without clothing but on further introspection that was clearly a stupid idea.  
Quickly I stripped the heavy winter coat from my waif like human form and slipped the Siberian into its warm folds. I shivered at the sudden divestment but shouldered on. I had work to do. The Siberian didn't really look any better, especially since the heavy coat only covered the top half of my/her body. Both bodies arched our brows, and the Siberian buttoned up the coat and again I considered parting with another piece of clothing but ultimately decided against it. Hopefully the dude in the gas station wouldn't notice.   
A quarter of a minute later I stepped into the deep shadow of the roof over the gas pumps and quickly crossed the pavement towards the front door of the station. I had to ease up slightly when I realized I was leaving perfect replications of my footprint in the concrete.  
I bounded then for the door, crossing twenty feet in half a millisecond and reached for the door handle of the glass door. With a jingle the door opened and I swept in and closed the door behind me.  
The cashier/worker looked up and froze his gaze stuck on my chest. For a second I thought of calling the kid off with a warning to keep his eyes on my face but I risked glancing down. Did I miss something?  
Evidently I had. Visible in the fluorescent light of the store was an enormous brownish red smear across the front of my coat. Yeah, that was blood. The boy’s eyes rose, meeting my face and the two stripes that adorned the side of my face before his eyes widened and he blinked and took in my whole figure.  
“Cape!” He half gurgled / half whispered, staring at me in shock.  
Cape? That was an unfamiliar term, but I think I remember hearing it before. Did Heartbreaker or one of his offspring say something about that? Well, I don't remember and I am on a mission. I quickly turned in a circle and skimmed the store’s content before striding over towards a few items.  
I grabbed another two lighters, and what looked like one of those emergency blankets that look kind of silvery. I scanned the store again and then darted over too a shelf with a liquid gel alcohol based hand sanitizer. Would this work on wounds?  
I turned towards the station worker and spoke, the words flowing nicely, and sounding musical. Yes, the Siberian wasn't supposed to talk but my other body couldn't talk at all and that would have to satisfy that.  
“Do you carry first aid supplies?”  
The young male nodded jerkily, shaking like a leaf, and pointed to the back of the store. He opened his mouth as if to speak or retort but I caught off his sudden urge to communicate by leaping towards the back of the store. I clipped the side of a shelf and it was annihilated, leaving empty space after I passed.  
I immediately noticed numerous bottles of cleaning alcohol and scooped them up, I moved my blood stained coat around to use it as an impromptu basket and started dropping medical stuff in. I hastily grabbed a nice little first aid kit and flicked it open, my fingers slicing through the packaging effortlessly. The kit contained a couple bandages in numerous sizes, two gauze pads, sterile wipes, adhesive bandages and few other knick knacks.   
I turned from my position and scrutinized the store again, now perhaps I should look for food? I moved over towards the counter, taking into account the various junk foods. None of it had any lasting nutritional value. I grabbed three small bags of beef jerky and some vitamin energy water drink thing.  
Finally I arrived at the counter a looked at the youth, who had dropped his mop, it seemed, and looked rather pale. There was only one thing I still needed… I looked the cashier over before speaking again, commanding, “Give me your clothes.”


	8. O for Oops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the police make a mistake.

I finished dressing just as I heard the distant wail of sirens. I paid then little heed as I attempted to tighten the waistline of the jeans that I appropriated from the cashier. The waistline was quite a bit larger then mine.  
“Do you have some twine, string, or anything like that?” I asked, glancing up from my predicament. I raised an eyebrow at the cashier’s suddenly terrified expression and the phone in his hand. What? Did he call the cops on me? Irritation bubbled for a second, and I felt a subtle twitch, urging me to demonstrate my displeasure.  
I pushed the strange sensation away and instead stepped forward and yanked the phone from him, annihilating it as I pulled it away. Some noise died suddenly and I realized with no small amount of horror that he had been talking with somebody on the phone and I had just tuned it out! Making a mental note to be more self aware in the future I turned towards the door. If the police were on the way then I needed to get out of here as soon as possible. If I lingered they might manage to set up a cordon of some sort around the area.  
If they did that then finding my other body was a high possibility. With a splitting of thought I devoted an iota of my mind to the piloting of my human body. I experienced a brief sense of vertigo as I attempted to walk my human vessel through the dark underbrush of the woods.  
That being taken care of I snatched a white shopping bag from the cashier’s stand and poured the stuff I intended to steal and which I had placed onto the floor while I was changing. I hadn't bothered to ask for the guy’s boots, this body did not them and I would be carrying my other, human, body from now on.  
I paused on my way out of the door as I eyed a pair of amber reflective sunglasses on a stand. Passing my gaze over the store one last time, disregarding the cashier and the rising stench of urine, I snatched the sunglasses and placed them on my hand.  
Then I stepped out the door, swinging it open as I did so. Immediately I regretted not looking before stepping outside.  
“Freeze! Put your hands where we can see them!” Half a dozen, futuristic looking police officers were arrayed in a half circle around the door’s entrance. Each was about seven feet from the nearest other cop, thereby ensuring that if I tried to attack one cop I wouldn’t be able to attack all of them at once.  
This was a rather disproportionate reaction to a random shoplifter or robber. Especially because it concerned an unarmed criminal. That being said the cashier did seem awfully terrified of me for no good reason. Terrified enough to urinate in fear when I exhibited irritation. Perhaps, there wasn't a masquerade after all? If the average cop and average cashier knew of people with powers this would fit.  
However, they were being remarkably stupid to try and attack somebody which they had no idea of their power level. Then again, they might have some power canceling device and only needed me to get close to use it.  
I decided to surrender, at least momentarily. Slowly I shrank to my knees watching the police offices relax as I dropped my, ahem, purchases and raised my hands into the air. Maybe I could negotiate some medical help for my other body. The wound we had was infected, still in the early stages but it needed something done about it soon.  
I opened my mouth to speak but froze when one police officer ordered, “Don’t say anything!”  
He stepped forward, blue and silver body armor twisting slightly as he approached with black painted metal handcuffs. He was a large man, with a stereotypical walrus mustache and deep blue eyes, set in a stern face. Muscles stood out in the parts of his body that were free of the sleek body armor.  
A badge was adorned to one shoulder, just beneath a stylized maple leaf flag. He reached out with one hand to cuff my hands, holstering his handgun as he did so.  
“State your name,” Another police officer ordered, this one a women, clad in the same body armor. She had dark black hair and brown eyes set in a slightly chubby face. She was holding some sort of small tape recorder device-looking thing. I had never seen the like of it before.  
I riffled through my available names, almost blurting out that I was the Siberian before stopping because what kind of name was Siberian? They obviously wanted a different name then that, couldn’t people get charged with more offenses if the police thought you were obstructing the flow of justice or something like that?  
“Vasil,” I replied, opting to refrain from offering my first name. After all they had only asked for a name, not my whole name.  
All the police officers recoiled, as if stung by an insect, expressions of horror quickly filled their faces, the most profound on the officer that had just cuffed me. One officer began screaming into his radio, near hysterically. I heard a thump from the store behind me and discerned that the cashier must have fainted.  
“Heartbreaker!” one word pierced the chaos, reaching my stunned mind. My gaze sharpened, they knew about Heartbreaker! I lurched to my feet, tearing the handcuffs apart easily, barely exerting myself.  
“Master/Stranger situation!” The officer continued before his mind registered what I had just done and he fumbled for his pistol as I straightened, “Brute!”  
My sunglasses shattered and something impacted my eye, obscuring my sight for a moment. Reflexively I flinched, raising a hand up to my eye. Barely a second later, I brought my hand away and looked down dumbly at a flattened metal disk, a second later it disappeared as I annihilated it as fury filled me.  
They shot me! I didn’t even do anything but rob a store! Which I suppose was rather seriously but it didn't warrant such a serious response! I growled the sound shaking the entire station. The sound actually seemed to vibrate nearby surfaces. To top this all off they had clear knowledge of Heartbreaker and were either in cahoots with him or knew who he was and did nothing.  
A staccato of earsplitting noises picked up and amidst the flashes I realized they were shooting at me. Pieces of metal fell away from my coat as they hit it, the momentum and velocity bled dry as they hit.   
I grinned, amusement rapidly coloring my psyche. So this was what it was like to be invincible. A moment later I spluttered as I was hit in the face by around a hundred tiny pellets, ah, that was a shotgun.   
Ignoring the yells and screams for me and the police officers to stand down I jumped forward and missing my mark plowed straight through a police cruiser. Oops. Now there were more screaming as I continued to run towards the forest before abruptly stopping and heading back.  
The police officers were still screaming and firing guns, except the walrus mustache one who was screaming into the radio about his backup as he took cover behind one of the gas pumps. Which really was kind of dumb, especially since bullets were flying every which way. I snatched my shopping bag from the ground, my feet leaving clear footprints in the concrete and turned to leave, cradling it in my arms since I didn't really want it to get ruined by flying bullets.  
I sprinted back towards the forest, the sound of gunfire lulling as the police attempted to reorient on my moving form. I charged up the slope I had descended earlier, descended it’s other side and scooped up my human body and began sprinting in the still oppressively dark of the woods.  
With any luck, the police will remain disoriented long enough for me to raise quite some distance between us. Then I’ll have to dress that wound, of if worst comes to worst find a hospital and just drop my human body off while keeping watch for danger with my Siberian body.


End file.
